Whispering Love
by Mizuno-Suzuka
Summary: Little drabbles from the lives of some of Tyria's own. Some of the characters are also in Purpose! Warning, there are strange pairings inside, don't be surprised!
1. Chapter 1

Exotic Taste

...

I'm back with some Guild Wars 2 Drabbles! You didn't all think I could just abandon all my characters to a dull existance inside the living story, did you? Beware, some pairings are strange and DEFINITELY not common, or canon, in some cases. You have been warned. That being said, all the same, I hope you enjoy my little mini stories, and If you have a chance, feel free to read my story _Purpose_ , which follows a few of the characters that I write about in here.

...

Hanven Stormsson was pretty sure he had been hallucinating the first time he'd ever seen a sylvari. He had been around his tenth year, playing around in the forrest near the great mountain peaks of Wayfarer hills, keeping close enough to home to run in case any of Jormag's minions attacked, but far enough to feel independent and adventurous. His family didn't travel much, nor did they socialize with their nearest neighbors often, nearly ten miles North and West of them. News came slow to their part of the world, and Hanven's parents liked it that way. They would say it kept Hanven out of trouble, until the time was right for trouble to come his way. At any rate, his playing was interrupted when a cold breeze ran through, stopping him cold at the recognition of temperature and weather change.

He quickly scooped up his fox kit, whom had been loping around in the deep snow happily, and sloshed through the uneven powder snow as quickly as his legs would allow him towards home. He could hear the skittering of icicles and knew that some of the corrupted elementals had found their way to his home again.

The snow's texture made it difficult for Hanven to maneuver through it, slowing him down as he tried valiantly to run to safety. But he could still hear them drawing ever closer to him.

The fox kit whimpered and he gritted his teeth, looking for something to use as a bludgeon, or any kind of weapon really. He was much better with a bow and arrow, but there was no time for him to get his own, and making one on the spot was out of the question. He spotted a jagged log poking out of the fresh snow and quickened his pace, forcing himself to breath carefully and not panic.

And then... he tripped.

Looking back on it, Hanven found it almost comical that he'd fallen flat on his face when he needed steady feet. Pleased to say, however, that he didn't just stay planted, instead immediately reaching his arms forward and pulling his weight forward, nudged on by his foxes little nose. He grasped the log firmly and yanked as hard as he could, whipping it out and smacking it against the hard frontal plate of the elemental. The creature stumbled back slightly, twisting it's head piece angrily with a strange clicking noise emenating from it's chest as it reared its arms above Hanven's chest. Hanven gritted his teeth and forced himself to move, well, to roll, really, away from the creature's trajectory, finding himself narrowly avoiding the ice-shard spear by mere inches. He scrambled to his feet and swung the crude weapon again, this time aiming for the elemental's head, luckily making enough contact to send the thing's head spinning, but also enough to snap the branch into splinters.

He took off running again, followed closely by his kit, rushing for the door to his home, only several yards away, when he heard a strange whistleing sound come into contact with a clashing that could only mean one thing. Hanven turned back and stopped when he realized a figure had come and sliced the creature to literal pieces, it's jagged heap of a corpse littering the landscape. Hanven looked at his impromptu savior, and titled his head. The thing that had saved him was odd, to say the least. Human in size and build, almost eerily so. And clad in plated armor like a human.

However, this creature was... plant-like. It's head was a brash of thorns and it's skin was a strange brownish tan of a stripped bark-oak, with green accents across the broadened spaces of skin that were visable. It's eyes- His eyes- Hanven noted while looking at the general anatomy, were a vibrant green, and his gaze was kind, not dangerous or intimidating.

"I assume you and the elemental weren't really all that friendly?" The plant-man asked jovially, sheathing his dual blades and stepping away from the broken pile as if it weren't even there. "If I may be so bold, I am Laranthir. I am travelling towards Lion's Arch, and found myself here aS it seems, just the right moment." Hanven just nodded, his mouth opened slightly.

Laranthir seemed confused, before chuckling in chagrin, scratching at his head.

"I do suppose you've never come into contact with a sylvari before." Laranthir stated. Hanven shook his head, closing his mouth.

"Is that what you are?" Hanven asked, his curiousity overwhelming.

"Yes, It is what my people are called." Laranthir said. "I am just one of many. Well, becoming many I suppose. We were few not too long ago." Hanven's eyes scrunched togethr closely as he scrutinized the plant-man.

"So you are not a friend to the Ice-Dragon?" He asked hesitantly. The warrior chuckled.

"No my friend, I can't say that I am." He replied. "In actuality, you could say I've sort of... received a calling to oppose the dragons. Rather indirectly, but even so, a calling nevertheless."

"Then may Raven bless you with wisdom, and Bear with strength." Hanven said, bowing slightly. "I'm indebted to you for ending the elemental's life. It would have attempted to destroy my home, and would have called for reinforcement if it hadn't been silenced so quickly."

"I've dealt with a few dragon minion's before." Laranthir said ruefully. "Tell me, you don't look proficient with that stick you were wielding. What is it you usually use?"

"A bow and arrow." Hanven answered proudly. "A good a shot as any, you can ask around." Laranthir laughed and nodded his head.

"I don't doubt it." He reached into his bag and pulled out a tiny sack, walking over to Hanven and holding it out until he grasped it.

"The next time you come across one of those, try dipping your arrow in that powder." He suggested, adjusting the bag on his back. "It sends a shock of heat through their nervous system... in a sense. Incapacitates them long enough to get in a good shot." Hanven looked up at Laranthir with wonder.

"Thanks, that's mighty kind of you." Hanven told him honestly. Laranthir smiled, tipping his head slightly in a goodbye-gesture, and made his way West towards Lion's Arch.

...

"Bryna Cloud, I'll be damned!" Hanven smiled jovially at the fiery red-headed Norn, who was pacing through the city of Hoelbrak impatiently near a waypoint, her blue eyes reading off dangerously to anyone who came too close. When she caught his eye, she sighed and a slight smile made it's way to her face.

"Hanven, it's been too long." She said, grasping arms with him in comraderie. "How have you been?"

"None the worse for wear, I've heard about your exploits with the undead Dragon. Might I say, quite an accomplishment for you."

"For anyone who participated, I think." Bryna deflected tactfully. "Though all the true credit likely goes to none other than the Commander of the Pact."

"Oh?" Hanven asked, scratching his head lightly. "I feel like I've heard the name somewhere..." The waypoint flashed at that moment, and a finely dressed Sylvari stepped off the platform, her pale green skin glistening in the Hoelbrak lighting. Hanven watched as Bryna stepped towards her swiftly, lifting her into her arms and spinning, their embrace intimate and private. Bryna swiftly kissed the sylvari's head, and then led her to the Norn male who had watched the encounter with wide eyes.

"Hanven, this is Eileria." She said, gesturing to the tall sylvari. "She is the Commander of the Pact, and a true Dragon Slayer. I've asked her to come here to participate in our cultural bonding ceremony." Hanven couldn't help but smile, then laughed.

"Well I truly will be damned!" He said. "Congratulations to the both of you! No finer a mate for Bryna then a Dragon Slayer!" He swore, if the Commander could, she'd have lit into flames at the chagrin. As it was, her bioluminescence seemed to nearly radiate from her body, and she averted her eyes, mumbling about "group effort" and "great sacrifice."

"No time to be humble now, Eileria." Hanven said holding out his arm. "You should know, we Norn have a way about us. Our exploits are our legacy. Yours has earned you the respect of all of us here. It feeds us hope for the future. A future without dragons." Eileria nodded, sending a small smile his way. He smiled back and then turned his attention to Bryna.

"That's a fine choice you've made there, Bryna." He said as Eileria stepped away to speak to one of the merchants. "Not only a strong one, but lovely too."

"An odd choice, I was told." Bryna stated quietly, glancing at her lover. "But... she is special. Strong. Wise. Don't get any ideas Hanven. I won't hesitate to beat you out again." Hanven laughed in chagrin, scratching the back of his head in embarassment. He wouldn't cross Bryna twice.

"Ah well, perhaps I'll have to find my _own_ Sylvari to woo, eh?" Bryna chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"Must you copy everything I do?" She asked, tugging Eileria close to her side. "I think you just envy me and my life." Hanven boomed in laughter, and shrugged his shoulders.

"One must emulate that which they wish to be." He said, recanting one of Raven's teachings. Bryna nodded, smiling, and Eileria shyly turned a smile his way as well.

...

Aelith could sense that someone was staring at her long before she turned to look at them.

It was something she'd learned, in a sense, during her time in the mists. Even though her eyes were cloaked by a shield of darkness, her other senses were sharper, stronger. She knew when an enemy was near, and could tell the difference between friend or foe purely by the steps of their gait. Thusly, she too knew when someone was taking due, or undue, interest in her.

Despite being a revenant, Aelith wouldn't have described herself as unapproachable. Most of her comrades in arms were just that, many being humans or Charr, their instincts and personality molded by the ascalonian ghosts and creatures that lurked in the mists. But she, as a sylvari, saw little to nothing to shape her negatively. It was all for the peace of Tyria, nothing more.

She sighed to herself, wondering if the person was _ever_ going to stop staring at her.

She may not have been unapproachable, but she did _still_ have a slight temper.

"Can I assist you?" She asked, spinning around on her heel and bearing down on the man who stared. She was surprised, it was a Norn male. She couldn't make out his coloring without her eyes exposed, but she could see his aura just fine. Tall, burly but muscular and well built. Fit. Athletic. Strong. She had so many words she could use to describe him. Proud. She could tell by the posture he held. Kind. His eyes were nearly smouldering with kindness. She was startled, to say the least, and wasn't sure how she was going to respond to anything he replied to her with. The Norn stood and Aelith felt even smaller than she was, and she was by no accounts a _small_ sylvari, reaching a height of six feet even. (Though, she boasted nothing on Eileria, Commander of the pact, who had a height of six extra inches to her height.)

But this Norn, he was tall, likely eight, perhaps even nine feet. She couldn't be sure, and when he stood, his whole demeanor commanded respect. Demanded attention. His aura shined brightly enough to attract her attention, but not enough to be overwhelming.

Interrupting her pondering, she heard a slight snuffling around her feet and peered down, surprised to see a well-worn fox, his big ears perked up and big eyes scrutinizing her curiously.

"It looks like Venleihn likes you." The Norn said, his voice a pleasant baritone, warm and friendly. He had an eyebrow quirked up in amusement, likely a product of her irritable tone.

"Is that his name?" She asked, reaching down to scratch behind the foxes ear. The Norn man chucked, shrugging.

"It is, though sometimes I think he prefers it if I just call him Ven." He admitted. Aelith smiled slightly, then turned away from the fox and back to the tall man.

"I'm sorry for my rudeness a moment ago." She said quietly. "I'm just not accustomed to staring."

"I must apologize as well." The Norn admitted, scratching the back of his head in chagrin. "I've been told before I can be too intense when I stare, and that one day the very mists would come to pull me into them." Aelith started for a moment, but then began to laugh.

"Indeed, the very mists were intruiged by your gaze." She offered. He chucked in reply, then leaned down on his haunches to pat his fox happily.

"It isn't entirely my fault." He told her, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "You are quite the sight to behold." Aelith tensed up a bit, her bioluminescence brightening in embarrassment. The Norn smiled knowingly.

"Have you never seen a sylvari before?" She asked, hedging and trying to calm her sudden nerves.

"Oh, I've seen a few, here or there." He admitted. He stood again, towering over her, but not in an intentionally imposing manner. "But, by the spirits, I've never felt more amazed by something so beautiful." Aelith opened her mouth to reply, but closed it instead. She glowed so brightly, it was as if it were night.

"I... uhm... Thank you." She stammered, wondering where her nerve had disappeared to.

"I hope you don't find me rude for asking." He said to her, closing the short distance between them, and placing his hands right over her face mask, though not actually touching her. Aelith looked up and her eyes widened, as she beheld a tribal necklace he wore, a strange symbol etched upon the plate that she'd only seen once before.

An image appeared in her head, of her dream. Before she'd awakened. Before she'd been alive in the dusk. An image of a star, slashed across by a ferocious claw, emblazoned on weathered metal pockmarked with age. The very same that she could see the outline of through her senses.

"Who are you?" She asked, as he lifted her eye-shield off, exposing her eyes to the world again, one she hadn't seen in such a long time.

"I am called Hanven Stormsson." He said gently. Aelith lifted her eyes to his, and was immediately enraptured by their hazel medley of colors. She stared, and she felt his palm cradle her face, and she closed her eyes, allowing the warmth to radiate through her cheek.

"I am Aelith, of Dusk." She replied, openening her eyes to gaze at him again. Hanven smiled and she felt, somewhere deep within her, that sometimes, staring wasn't all that bad.

...

His friends had made fun of him, saying he had exotic taste.

If only they knew.

That a charcoal colored sylvari, with evergreen tints and eyes akin to emeralds, hair twisting vines in a braid so intricate it was like art, was _exactly_ within his taste.

...

Thank you for reading this little short drabble! I started something similar with Warcraft characters, but I love Guild Wars 2 pretty equally, so I decided to start one for GW2 while I was out on deployment. More than likely, you'll see quite a few chapters come up all at once. They are in no particular order, nor do they follow any particular set timeline. They just occur, when they occur. Happen as they happen. So enjoy them! :)


	2. Chapter 2

In Dreams

...

If any of you have read _Purpose_ , then you will recognize these two pretty much right away. ;)

...

Curran liked to sometimes imagine that he was in the dream again.

In the dream it was soft. Warm. He hadn't worried of danger in the dream. He hadn't seen friends die or lives shatter before his very eyes in the dream. The dream was merely a kinder reflection of the world he was a part of now, a world where things were not as they seemed. Where danger was reflected back as a pool of water to a face. Where enemies began as friends and friends died young.

It was easy to imagine he was in the dream, safe within his mother's arms again, while he was asleep. Meditation and reflection reinforced this, and allowed him to truly immerse himself in the calm, the beauty.

It also allowed him the time to really truly _remember_ some things about his dream, things he hadn't forgotten per-se, but things that weren't as important at the time, or had been obscure and hard to understand as a newborn sapling. Much of it was hard to understand, but he did his best to try, and he made the venture forth into his memories often, especially once he'd completed his training as a revenant, trying to truly unlock his true potential.

He remembered it clearly, and, at once, was sure, as well as unsure of his course. He'd walked the path in his dreams many times. The recollection of the pathway in the dream that had led him to the end of the dream; to his awakening.

Most sylvari encountered something in their dream that led them to their purpose. Perhaps it was a wyld hunt. Or a particular profession. Or a love. Someone they could always be near. Something they could always pursue. A danger that they had to face. A life they were meant to live.

Curran remembered the symbol of the warden's shield in his dream. He also remembered the shield being cracked, broken and worn. He'd later learned that though he would begin his days as a warden, they would not last long. Soon, he would be called to fight in the mists, to become a revenent. At the time, all he'd understood was part of the dream. But each time he remembered it, a little more came back to him.

He remembered the secretive codes and whispers that later led him to join the Order of Whispers. Something he'd not thought of when at first he'd been offered. Until a certain elementalist, her ebony hair sleek and smooth, had offered him a hand during one of his roving watches for the warden guard. He'd seen the crest on her brooch, and knew, at once, that this was meant to be as well.

The final part was one that evaded him, though he'd seen it many a time. It was a color. It was in the trees. In the land. In the sky. In the water, literally, anywhere, and everywhere. So subtle, at first, in his early years, he hadn't known what it had meant. Why was he seeing this vibrant color everywhere? Of all things _pink_ was not something he'd seen much of in his early years. Lots of green. Yellows, reds. On occasion, if the sun was setting just right, a flash of pink would cross the sky, so beautiful it would take the breath away from even the hardest of hearts. But he hadn't understood, hadn't _fathomed..._

And so instead, he'd forgotten it.

Until...

He shifted in his sleep, and opened his eyes blearily to see in the dark. He'd taken off his eye-covering to allow himself to rest his senses. He stretched himself and sighed, wrapping his arms around the small asura that had climbed into his bed sometime during the night, insisting that _his_ bed was more comfortable then her own. His eyes had barely adjusted when he stopped, his eyes focused on the wild locks of hair splayed about his pillow.

The exact color of pink from his dream.

How could he have _literally_ been so _blind_?

She'd been with him for _months_.

Their very first conversation had been about her _hair color._

He groaned and shifted a hand to slide over his face, taking a moment to allow his epiphany to set in. After all this time. She was there. She'd been there. She was in the trees. In the sky. Her smiles on his heart. The way she crinkled her nose when she was thinking hard about a formula that evaded her grasp. How she was always energetic and eager to learn. The brightness of her hair was almost a perfect analogy to her beatific personality. How. How could he have, after all this time, _missed the obvious?_

"Hiami?"He said softly, hesitantly.

Her pink eyes, luminescent in the dark, like reflective pools even though the lack of light was nearly as intense, fluttered open and slowly focused on his face.

"Hmm?" She hummed, snuggling closer into his chest, rubbing her tiny nose against him. He embraced her close to his chest, and inhaled the scent of her hair. He smiled, content, in that moment, to know she was close. His special one. His _only one._

"I..." He trailed off, unsure. He'd never felt such a sense of _completion_ before. It was hard to think of a way to word how he was feeling. But... he had heard it said before, that one should just keep it simple.

"I love you."

...

Well there it is! I don't really have a timeline for when this particular scene occured, but I feel like this is how Curran would come across his epiphany. At any rate, I hope you all enjoyed this little drabble! There will be plenty more where that came from! 3 Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Technically Flirting

...

Evari sat quietly in her lab, awaiting the results from her most recent testing on her equipement that she'd adjusted. She'd given each one to a different student, making it clear on it's usage, and gave instructions to the professors of the academy to keep a close eye on them, lest they decide to use it on each other, rather then on intended targets. She twirled her left braid around her index finger, bored out of her mind as she waited. She'd run out of things to tinker with in her lab, and due to certain limits imposed upon her by her maternal progenitor, she wasn't able to leave and do whatever she wanted. The two asuran guards outside her door made certain of that.

Though she _was_ a mesmer. And she _had_ tried to use a clone as a distraction to get her out of her prison. But, alas, her parental unit had already forseen that she would attempt such an escape, and had not only warned the guards, but ensured one of them was also a mesmer.

It hadn't ended well.

She sighed, why was it so important that she stay in here anyway? She wasn't _doing_ anything per se, that could be construed as negligent or mischevious. But still, she _insisted_ on keeping Evari from getting out into public eye.

She was starting to become suspicious.

She was even _more_ suspicious when Phyla, the maternal progenitor in question, had rushed off, giving no explanation, save for a truly ironic _"Stay here and do not leave until I give you the word to do so, progeny."_

All Evari ever _did_ was stay in the lab.

She sighed in a frustrated gust and pushed away from her desk, the stool scratching against the hard granite, making her flinch slightly.

"I see you are feeling quite encapsulated." A voice called out. Evari turned to the source of the voice, and smiled in relief to see Praxx walking towards her, carrying a rather hefty tray of some of the finest asuran delicacies. He waddled over and set the tray on the very desk that she'd abandoned, and turned his green eyes to stare into her teal ones.

"You haven't the slightest inkling." She replied, flashing him a toothy smile. "I thank you for your generous thoughts. Likely, the parental matron wouldn't have come back herself to ensure my leisurely imprisonment, especially in regards to nourishment."

"Well, we certainly can't have that." Praxx replied, smiling back at her. "A little variety is the, oh, what do the humans say... 'spice of life'."

"So much transit within the infirmary is reformatting your personality, Praxx." Evari teased. "You're beginning to postulate to the cultural subnormaties of the humans!"

"They're truly not _all_ that bad." He admitted, pulling a stool to sit beside her. "Some of their customs are quite intruiging. Not to mention, each time I get a human in the infirmary is a new chance to discover something about them anatomically. Human's are naturally suspicious creatures, and paranoid as well. You have no _idea_ how hard it can be to treat them at times."

"No less stubborn than a Charr." Evari commented, taking a bite out of the baked moa.

"Although less hairy than one." Praxx added, laughing. Evari giggled and chewed on her food a bit in silence.

"Is there something... happening?" Evari asked in a small voice, her eyes cast away from Praxx. She figured it was just as well that she try to ask him what was going on, since no one else would. She lifted her eyes to him when he didn't answer, and found him to be looking puzzled.

"Not that I'm aware." Praxx responded. "Since Zhaitan and Mordremoth have been slain, its been decidedly... quiet."

"Oh." Evari said, frustration rolling into her. "I see."

"Ah, I believe I understand the origin of your question now." Praxx said, a smile upon his face. "You were trying to indirectly inquire about your imprisonment in your lab."

"Was it so obvious?" She asked, her cheeks darkening.

"Perhaps not to an outsider who does not know you." Praxx responded in kind. "But, I am familiar with your facial algorithims, as well as your speech patterns whilst attempting to glean information through subterfuge."

"Are you saying that you spend a lot of time looking at my face?" Evari asked, her tone light. Praxx smiled in chagrin.

"You have a very pleasing facial arrangement. Very semetrical in structure. Pair that with your exotic toned eyes and matching hair folicles, and I must say, it is hard not to avert my occulatory preferences." Evari blushed.

"I believe, Praxx, that you are flirting." She stammered out, pleased to say the least. Praxx grinned a bit, his cheeks filling with color.

"I suppose, technically, I am."

...

And you guys thought the last one had no direction... HAH! I don't even know there this one is going. lol Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Reserved in Kind

...

I'm introducing two new characters this chapter, whom I have decided will be making an appearance in _Purpose_ in the near future (Whether it be volume one, or one of the following volumes [Yes, you heard that right, I will be doing multiple volumes of _Purpose_ , get hyped!]) So I hope that you will come to love them as much as I do.

...

Laela was in pain.

It was disjointed, almost incomprehensible, really. How she'd gotten here. How she'd not forseen this very outcome. Her eyes were dulled to the sky, darkened with smoke and heavy red tones from the setting sun. Her ears felt as if they were filled with cotton, they could hardly hear the sounds of whimpering and crying from others around her suffering the same.

It had come on so fast.

One moment, she'd been crossing the border into Gendarren fields, having returned from Bloodtide Coast, and the next, she was awakened rudely by the sounds of trampeling hooves, and gutteral screams in the night.

Caught unprepared, she hadn't had time to grasp her staff, and her scepter and focus lay forgotten back at the camp she'd set for herself. Nearly defenseless, she'd forced herself to use her last resort, a dagger, only to find herself unable to channel the elements through it at all. Not that it mattered much, as the centaur's surrounded her and quickly overwhelmed her. When she finally came to, next, she had been tied to a large tall post, her hands secured above her head with crude rope, waist and legs secured as well.

At first, it was merely a small ache in her back. Then her arms. Then her head as she tried to translate the broken Centaur speech. Soon she just closed her eyes and attempted to forget it all, trying to search for a way to escape.

Then they brought more.

Women. Children. Elderly. Never any men, though. Laela swallowed back any thoughts as to why they hadn't been added to the group. Based on the looks on the children's faces, she'd guess they'd died fighting. It made her so angry she could nearly feel her blood boiling. These were the type of people she tried to save. These were the type of people that looked to her for help when they were in need. She was failing them, in essense, by being one of them. A lump of broken pride rose in her throat at the thought.

That is when the torturing began.

For a savage type of creature, in Laela's opinion, the centaur's were not devoid of imagination. They knew she was a fighter, and chose her for a very particular brand of interrogation.

They hadn't appreciated her spitting curtesy.

After all was said and done, they would return her to the post, and she would lean against it wearily, her body aching, chilled to the bone and bleeding.

She was in pain, but not all of it was her body.

A few days of being constantly beaten down, Laela began to wonder if perhaps there was some true meaning to all that she was going through. Something she was missing. She'd fought an elder dragon, and yet she couldn't rescue herself from some centaurs?

But fate, or the Gods, Laela was never really sure, worked in strange ways.

The first inclination that her stay would be cut short soon was the warning horns blaring from the forest mouth. The centaur within the camp became restless, gathering up their stored weapons and beginning to tear down their tents, packing them into small satchels and gathering more rope. The horns stopped abruptly, and the tension in the camp increased tenfold at the eerie silence that followed.

The first bone minion she saw cross the threshold to the forest sent a shock through her. She'd seen this very one before. It was a unique one, something out of a macabre painting, or a mixture of some undisguised grief, something anguished.

There was only one Necromancer she knew callous enough to call such a creature.

Tall. Long flowing blonde hair. Blind as a bat.

James Xotufexo.

 _How_ did he _know_ she was _here?_ "

The bone minion scuffled over to her post stealthily, sniffing at her and nuzzling against her arm as a cat would. She felt goosebumps raise on her dark ebony skin, but she made no sound of protest. The creature was merely marking her for ease of discovery. James used his senses well, and he knew the smell of his minions in particular. He would kill each and every centaur in the forest, but leave everyone else unscathed, so precise was his skill. And she watched in quiet awe as the bone minion repeated the action again and again to each of the captives, avoiding detection in a way that only a necromantic monster could. Laela tried hard to find a gratuitous bone in her body, but still felt her nose crinkle up in slight disgust, despite herself.

She watched as he slid into the opening of the forest silently, his shadow form still prevailant amongst his body. His staff was raised high above his head, and his eyes glowed a demented green, their focus on nothing, but his hands already seeking the enemy.

A battle cry was uttered, and the hooves began to trample against the ground. Laela felt herself sink into the dirt a bit as it vibrated with the force of their attack. The unwanted Necro was not faced by his being outnumbered. Instead, he swung the staff almost lazily, and everything that hadn't been marked by his creature, burst into chaotic magical fires of darkness. Laela watched as the centaurs, now in a panic at this development, ran abound across one another, trying to put out the flames, trying to run to find water. Xotufexo merely stepped forward.

"Laela?" He called out, snapping his fingers. His undead creatures scuttled around and gnawed off the ropes that binded the tortured prisoners. He waited to hear the sound of _her_ voice.

"Here." She croaked, her throat dry and cracking. Xotufexo rushed to her side, placing a gentle hand on her cheek, grimacing when he felt the laceration there.

"They hurt you." He said. It wasn't a question. Laela nodded.

"It's going to be alright, Laela." He told her, drawing a dagger and cutting her free of her bonds. "We'll get you to some of Dwayna's priestesses. They'll have you skipping around in no time."

"Alright." She said, her pale burgandy eyes staring at him curiously. "How did you know I was here?" Xotufexo paused, seeming hesitant to answer.

"I was just... passing by?" His statement was made a question by his tone, and Laela noticed a light blush settle on his ears and cheeks. She chuckled, wincing at the pain it garnered.

"I won't waste time calling you out on your terrible lie." She told him, forcing herself to a stand, having to use the post as a tool to steady herself. "But you owe me an explanation later. After we've freed all these people and gotten them home safely."

"Always so much business." Xotufexo grumbled, his eyes blankly staring straight ahead. "But, in the present circumstances, I suppose it _is_ warranted a tiny bit."

"Just a bit." She replied. They set to work finishing off the ropes that still bound some of the citizens, rounding them up and doing a quick headcount.

"That's all of them." Laela told him, using her staff as a crutch. "We should move on before their hunting party returns.

"What hunting party?" Xotufexo asked, all too innocently. Laela narrowed her eyes, not sure if it was worth asking what he'd done to all the centaurs he'd come across. She decided it was likely in her best interest to just forget about it.

"Nevermind then, let's just get these folks home." She said instead, moving past the necro gently to lead the group out of the forrest.

Sometime later, after the civilians had left to their homes, and Laela had decided to retire home as well, she found herself accompanied by the soft footsteps of the blind man who had inadvertantly saved her life. Though they walked in comfortable silence, she found herself burning with questions. She wasn't sure she wanted _all_ of the answers, but she knew she did have one question in particular that she wanted answered above all. She bit her lip as she tried to think of a way to ask.

"I can tell your apprehensive about something, Laela." Xotfuexo said, raising an eyebrow at her musings. "Care to share?"

"It was merely a question I had." Laela replied slowly. "But honestly, I'm not even sure how to ask." The necromancer stopped, planting his feet and tilting his head. He crossed his arms, a sign he had no intention of moving until she had asked her question. She sighed.

"I'm just curious... of how you _really_ came across the camp." She said. "It's a little too... well planned, to have been just a coincidence. I want to know how you knew." Xotufexo scratched his head, his ears turning a very red hue.

"Erm... I... Well..." He seemed to struggle to come up with an explanation, and each second that passed, the redder his face became until the color was creeping into his neck. Laela blinked a few times.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"Right as rain."

"You're blushing."

"On fire is more like it."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Can I plead silence and forfeit my rights instead?" Laela chuckled at this, shaking her head at the strange necro.

"Are you in the habit of forfeiting your rights?" She teased lightly, her pale eyes filled with amusement.

"Only to beautiful ladies such as yourself." He admitted honestly. Laela was startled. Her brow furrowed.

"James, you've never even seen my face."

"Sure I have." He replied cheerfully, stepping towards her, invading her personal space just a bit. He laid each of his hands on her cheeks, running his fingers along the planes of her face, as he'd done once before, when they'd first met years ago. His fingers felt her wide and strong cheekbones, her long and lucious lashes. The curve of her lips as they met, parted slightly as his fingers ghosted across. He touched her nose lightly, a gesture, he told her, that he did to his friends to show they were close to him.

"One doesn't always have to _see_ to really know if someone's beautiful." He told her softly. His left hand lingered on her cheek, and she felt her breath hitch as his lips met hers in a gentle, soft caress.

"Your beauty of course," He told her, running his hand gently across her cut after he ended the kiss. "Is reserved for those who truly deserve it."

...

Well, there you have it! It's a little mushy at the end, but this _is_ a love story drabble drop, so well...I got nothing. :P


	5. Chapter 5

Warmth

...

Bryna was resting leisurely in the Grove, the asura gate taking a lot out of her. Travelling by interdimensional means was draining, though the asura seemed not to mind too much. Perhaps it was just her. She sighed, rolling her eyes slightly.

The Grove was a magical place, teeming with magical creatures, and human like plant-people called _sylvari_. Red, blue, green, white. You named it, they were there, in vibrant color, woodsy scents and floral appendages, their eyes bright with curiousity, and their hearts innocent and jovial. Bryna was young enough herself, only nineteen years of age. Still building upon her legend. Still exploring, still _learning_. But these sentient beings were not just young, they were naive too. But not in a bad way. They knew basic things, they were not born as infants, unthinking, unable to fend for themselves. The sylvari were unique in that they drew their knowledge from the real world, through the deeds of their brothers and sisters who had already been born.

Bryna hadn't seen any sylvari be born since she'd visited the grove, and she didn't think it likely that she would. She had been told by one of the wardens that it was a slow season for pods. She'd begun to mark on her map her route for Caledon when she'd heard a low rush of whispers and running feet, flitting to a branch that was lowering itself to the ground near where she lay.

The sylvari all chittered lightly, excited about the new arrival, as the pulsing pod was gently laid in the soft grass and flowers that covered the ground. Bryna ducked around them, on her hands and knees, peering around the legs of the sprite-like creatures to get a better look. One of the menders, a frail looking thing with stooped shoulders, pushed his way through the crowd carefully.

"Back up please. You'll disorient the newborn." He said softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. But the sylvari all heeded his call, backing up slowly, giving the pod plenty of space. Bryna herself did not back up, instead drawing closer to the pod, as if it were a magnet. How odd.

The pod opened slowly, like a morning glory coming to bloom during nightfall. A tall, lichen colored Sylvari was curled up inside. Bryna was surprised to say the least. The sylvari was pale green, with white markings along her flawlessly smooth face. Her body was splotched with navy colored markings, like a pattern of spider webs running from shoulder to toe. Her glow, so prevalent in the night, was like a pulsing river, a pale but vibrant blue that pulsed in time to her breaths. The girl opened her eyes, and peered at the mender warily. Bryna noticed her eyes were a strange combination of lavender and green. Like jewels that had fractured and been infused with other colors.

She was beautiful.

Her hair was curling pale green vines that wrapped around the right side of her head, but left the left clear of anything, showing her white facial patterns there as well. They trailed down her shoulders, ending at her collarbone.

"Where... Where am I?" She said softly. Her voice was high, but soft, melodic. "Caithe? Where's Caithe?"

"Steady sapling. You just woke." The mender said, holding out a hand to the sapling. She took it, and Bryna lifted herself too her feet to get a better look. The Sylvari female was _tall_. Not small like most of the spritely beings she saw flitting around. She was much taller than a human. Bryna guessed around six foot four. Odd, considering. She towered over the mender, who looked as if he was unsure of how to proceed with the sylvari.

"I must find Caithe." She said, her voice strong. "The dragons, I saw... I saw the dragons..."

"By the tree, a wyld hunt!" The mender cried out in awe. Some of the remaining sylvari gasped and tittered in small whispers. Bryna had learned a little bit about the wyld hunts some "valiants" were given upon birth. Or during their... dream. This one sounded important. To have dreamed of the dragons...

"I can hardly believe it. Fresh out of the pod, and already, you're destined for greatness!" The mender said, grasping her hands gently. They were larger than his own, but still feminine and soft looking. "I'm sure you must be disoriented... We'll get you to your luminary right away, oh Malomedies will be so surprised! Wait right here- Er... What's your name, sapling?" Her glittering lavender eyes blinked, as if surprised by the question.

"My name is Eileria." She said, bowing her head slightly. The mender nodded, gestured for her to stay put, and rushed off, presumably to find the night luminary. Bryna tentatively took a few steps forward, leaning in to get a closer look at the "newborn."

Eileria turned as Bryna did, and her eyes were wide as saucers, their color reflective despite the lack of light. She stared at Bryna, as if she was staring at the sun, but could not avert her eyes. She didn't blink, didn't move. Then, a smile broke across her face, so blinding and beautiful that Bryna felt herself staring more than she had intended.

"You're Bryna Cloud."

She said it as a fact. A statement. It was not a question, something to be answered. But Bryna could not believe her ears. This newborn, that had _literally_ just been born before her very eyes...

She knew her name.

It was a feeling that spread throughout her veins as the jeweled pale lavender eyes of the pale green sylvari stared into her own. Warm. Homely. Comfortable. Something other-worldly, something fresh and new. She wasn't sure... She couldn't be sure. But she raised her arm, a sign to comraderie between the Norn, and Eileria grasped it with her own, as if she too were Norn. Her smile was gentle and bright, and Bryna found herself warming to the genuine aura of the sylvari.

"You are so warm." Eileria said, grasping Bryna's arm firmly, still staring deeply into her arm. "I was not able to touch you. To feel you, in my dream. But I knew... I knew you would come here. That you would be here for me." Bryna cocked her head to the side, unsure of how to respond. She hadn't _known_ anything. How had this Sylvari...

"Of course, you aren't as familiar with our culture as we are." She told the Norn in her convoluted way. "To make it easiest to explain... I saw you in my dream. Supporting me. Always a guiding hand." She drew closer to the Norn, and Bryna felt her cheeks warm slightly. Eileria placed her hands on either side of her face.

"You are my warmth."

...

Just a little bead into how Eileria and Bryna met ;) I hope you are all enjoying the drabbles thus far! Hopefully I'll have many more to come.


	6. Chapter 6

Blood of my Blood

...

The afternoon sun, though high in the sky and beating down on her back, made Sanorah's hair bristle on the back of her neck. No. It wasn't the sun. It was the sudden feeling of being _watched_ that had her bristling.

"You puff up like a domesticated kitten when you're scared, cub." Sanorah narrowed her eyes, turning to glare at the voice.

She'd been asked to come here. To this strangely deserted place. To finally find _something_ out about her family. The one's who'd left her on the drop off in the Farahr. The one's who'd disappeared without a trace, leaving her in the care of the Legions, to whom she'd had no familial connection, and to whom she was loyal. The one's who'd left her nothing, but her own two paws and a scrap of nodescript cloth with nothing to lead her to her home.

At first, she'd been hesitant. Unable to think of a good reason why she should even care about it to begin with, she had at first, crumpled up the hastily scrawled letter, delivered by a strange hawk she'd never seen before. Once her curiosity overwhelmed her however, she dug the offensive paper out, rereading it several times and trying to wrap her head around why they wanted to see her now. Of all times. After 25 _years_. It had made her blood boil and her rage increase. She'd thrown away the paper several times after that.

But in the end, the draw to end the mystery, to finally _know_ the parents that she'd never had, that no one had known or been able to identify. It was too much to say no to.

So here she was. And they were _mocking_ her.

She focused her eyes carefully, observing the two creatures that stood in her path. The one who'd spoken, a tall brawny male, Had nearly her _exact_ coloring. A dark reddish brown, almost maroon, with white splotches, unevenly patterned across his mane, which was hacked short as unevely as his pattern. He had what looked to be a flash burn running from his left eye to his bottom jaw, the hair long since singed off. One of his horns, menacing and dark ebony, was broken at the peak and jagged, while the other was missing entirely. His leathers were well worn and seemed tanned by something... almost scorched.

The female, who stood slightly off to the side, looking worse for the wear, was a different story altogether. Her coat would have been a lustrous white color, but it looked as if she hadn't seen water in months, so dingy was the color. Her eyes were swollen, but glistened a jewel-like blue color beneath the crossed lids. Her armor was familiar, though that wasn't what had entirely caught her attention.

It was her front clawed paws. Wrapped over and over with rope, blood caked on the edges, and the way they were curled... definitely broken. Sanorah bristled even further.

"What is this?" She spat out, taking a defensive stance, her hands already on the hilt of her greatsword.

" _This_." The male emphasized, pushing the female Charr roughly until she was on her knees. "Is the pathetic creature that birthed you, cub."

"No." Sanorah replied, her eyes shifting between the two carefully. "How _dare_ you summon me here, imparting upon me your _lies_ about wisdom in legacy, to brutalize a fellow Charr." She could feel her muscles twitching in anticipation. The male Charr smiled, and she noticed his teeth were yellowed, a couple missing on the sides.

"Oh, I have no lies to give, child." He told her, barely even glancing down at the female Charr he'd dragged along. "I did tell you in that letter that I had information on your parents. Well, you're looking at them." Sanorah took an involuntary step backwards as she processed that. She shook her head slowly.

"Who are you?" She meant for her voice to come out strong, but it hardly passed a whisper.

"I just said it cub, pay attention." The male Charr snapped, his expression devious. "Your parents. I sired you with _her_ -" He spat in her direction. "And she ran off with you in tow, gaining something of a concience all those years ago."

"A concience... what?" She was unsure of how to proceed. If she kept the conversation up like she was, it was unlikely that she'd be able to fight off the male Charr, whom she had a bad feeling was a part of the Flame Legion, just a guess, based off of his general appearance, and save the female who he claimed was her mother. Her mind planned, and she noted that the male Charr, still unnamed, was staring, waiting for a reaction.

"Oh come now... can't you tell just by her armor?" He kicked her again, and the female Charr seethed, but didn't scream, her body shuddering in a strange way. Sanorah growled. "She's a filthy Vigil Soldier now. After all those years the Flame Legion took care of her. Fed her. Clothed her. _Trained her."_ He snarled. The female Charr growled and spat at him, earning a bone chilling laugh in reply.

"I think you're mistaken." Sanorah said, carefully shifting her weight onto her other foot. The male charr mirrored her, a smile still on his teeth. "She's better now than she ever was as Flame Legion." The Flame Legionnaire growled and reached at his side to pull out a torch and sword, his expression murderous.

"You know, cub." The Charr said as he circled her, mirroring her movements as she mirrored his. "I was wondering... all this time... There _had_ to have been a reason she disappeared. A reason she left us all behind. Not to go goody two shoes, although Im sure that had something to do with it too." He thrusted the torch at Sanorah but she dodged it quickly, using her sword to pull an edge to her stance.

"It had to be that she knew you were going to be born, and took you to the Farahr in the Plains of Ashford before I had a chance to stake a claim." Sanorah felt her rage grow.

"Stake a _claim?_ " She snarled, swinging her greatsword around, just barely missing him by an inch. "You think, after a quarter of a century, you could just walk into my life, and _stake a claim!?"_ He laughed, swinging his torch at her again, the heat singing the top of her fur.

"Oh not walk in. You see, in Flame Legion, our cubs aren't sent to Farahrs. Aren't left alone to _rot_ while their sires run afoul. I would have trained you. Would have given you a true home." It sounded surreal. Sanorah couldn't afford to hesitate. She couldn't afford to pause, he would take advantage of that hesitation. She knew, she _knew._

And yet, she still did it.

His strike was swift, and it hurt, but she could almost say her pride was hurt more than her body. He seemed to be just toying with her now, but the strike meant he had no issue taking her down if she left her guard down. This was no ordinary fighter. And his talk was alluring. Distracting.

"Yes... I knew you existed shortly after Kara disappeared." He drawled, circling in dance with her again, his torch held aloft. "She would only have so many reasons for needing to leave when she did. There was a battle to be had. A great assault on one of the Iron Legion outposts. We had our Centurian's scout the area, and plans were made. Goals set." He swiped at her again, but this time she was quick, and avoided the strike. He grinned, his teeth gnashing together.

"But to disappear... Now... that took some guts, I'll admit." He feinted another step, and slashed his sword against her arm, leaving a long gash bleeding across her. She seethed, taking a few steps back, nearly hissing in anger. "But... luckily enough for me, I'm a patient Charr. Even luckier for me, your patterns, your coloring... You inherited it from me." He struck again, but Sanorah forced a sidestep, sending him back a few steps so she could recover.

"Finding you in that Farahr... You might think me cruel, but it did me no good to try to steal you from their when you were young." He continued. "They guard their young well, and Flame Legion are easy to spot." He sighed. "So instead, I searched for Kara. It took me years... too long, truly. As you so eloquently put, a quarter of a century was nearly wasted, tracking her down to exact justice. Lo and behold, she'd joined the Vigil. Unusually well guarded too."

Sanorah heaved her weight into her step to try to force him to sidestep, using her blade as an anchor. Her leg connected, and he skidded across the grassy plain, looking mildly impressed.

"I'll make you an offer you can't refuse." He said, holding his torch and sword at his side, almost giving up his defense. "The Flame Legion could use a warrior like you. And... in exchange, I'll set _her_ free." Sanorah was so startled that she lowered her guard, though only slightly. She took a quick glance at the Vigil soldier, whose despondant gaze became alarmed as soon as he'd said the words.

"I am...I am Blood Legion." She said, her voice gaining momentum and strength. "I will _never_ associate with the cowards of the Flame Legion!"

Sanorah growled and pounced at her sire, her anger leading her to swing her claymore faster, harder. Striking at him as he moved, feeling her patience slowly wearing thin. And then she realized... she was tiring. But he was not.

He was just playing with her.

The moment the realization hit her was the same moment he realized she had caught on, and the smirk was ever present on his features.

"Ah, caught on, have you cub?" He leered, circling her like a hawk to a corpse. Sanorah panted, now concerned. She shouldn't have come alone. She shouldn't have come at _all_.

"Sanorah!" The charr in question whipped her head around, startled by the call of her name from afar. It was Fen. And Rorrik. And Teak. They were here. Her warband was here. She turned to face her sire again, a smirk upon her features as she closed in on him.

"You're cowardice has gone on long enough." She said, her eyes narrowing into near slits, her adrehnaline spiking. "Any last words, Flame Legion scum?"

"How quaint." The charr chuckled, his smirk still upon his face. "But this isn't another tale where the heroes swoop in to save the day..." Sanorah could hear the padding of their footsteps as they came ever closer to her and her sire. But he was already backing up, back towards her mother, who was panting and seething on her knees, not having moved at all since their battle had begun. Sanorah figured he would try to escape, but was not expecting what he did next.

Fen watched as Sanorah suddenly staggered, slipping in her rush to intercept the male charr with her exact coloring as he edged back to the dingy white charr in Vigil armor. He wasn't sure what was going on, but based off the low snarling trailing from her mouth, she was _not_ friendly with the male charr, and was trying to save the vigil soldier.

But he knew it was going to be too late when he watched a wicked smile light upon the male charr's face. Sanorah was too far, not fast enough to stop his blade as it drew cleanly across the white female's neck, a spout of blood pouring from her neck. Sanorah roared, her muscles tensing as she howled, scratching, tearing, swinging her sword. But. It was too late. The vigil soldier slumped to the ground face first, unmoving.

The male charr swung out a kick that flung the blood legionnaire back, straight into Fen, who used the brunt of his weight to steady her. She was still howling, her eyes slits and her mouth in a permanant snarl. The male charr laughed, his eyes wide with mirth.

"You'll remember me now, cub." He said, spitting at the corpse as he backed away slowly. "Umaren Flametrench. Come find me when you aren't so weak."

His parting laugh was chilling.

Sanorah's yowling cut off abruptly, and she shifted away from Fen, moving to the bled-out corpse of her mother. She brushed the hair out of her face, pressing a claw to her neck, feeling for a pulse she knew wasn't there.

"That coward." She spat, her eyes watering. Strange. She hadn't even _known_ this charr. "He will pay for this dishonor. No one should ever die like this." Fen placed a hand on her shoulder, leaning down.

"She died a Vigil soldier." He said. "That's how she'll be remembered. Blood and Honor. She may not have been a Blood Legionnaire, but we'll make sure she's put to rest honorably all the same." Sanorah nodded, standing up and leaning into Fen slightly.

"Thanks..." She said lowly. Ignoring the looks from Teak and Rorrik. "I may have never known her but... she's still my blood." Fen nodded, turning her to face him.

"She'll always be the blood of your blood." He told her wisely. "But remember this... We, your warband... we are blood too." Sanorah nodded, smiling weakly. She knew this well. It didn't change what had just happened, but she knew, the next time she confronted Umaren. She wouldn't be alone.

...

A lot less fluff in this one, a little more sadness too. Sanorah and Fen are two charr that I haven't actually created, but I intend to add them into my story soon. I hope you've enjoyed a look into their life, even though it was a sad look :(


	7. Chapter 7

Dexterity

...

Yaegar wouldn't necessarily say he was having a _bad_ day.

Although, he wouldn't classify it as good either. He was currently waiting his turn at woodworking table in Lion's Arch, which was crowded, an understatement really, did _everyone_ need to repair or create their bows or staves _this minute?_ He'd been waiting almost three hours, and though he thought his patience limitless, he was finding he actually had a shorter temper than most. Unlike the wispy yellow sylvari in front of him that swayed dreamily on her toes, oblivious to the pure aura of frustration that seemed to be emanating from Yaegar's body. He tried different things to keep himself occupied. Humming tunes he'd heard in Hoelbrak. Caculating the trajectory his arrow would have to go against the midday breeze to reach the fountain. Scratching his leopard behind the ears. The lazy creature had taken to snoozing between pets.

He sighed and began to tap his foot. He wasn't willing to spend the silver to take a waypoint to another area, and he _really_ couldn't move on from Lion's Arch until he made the necessary modifications, and repairs, to his bow. He received a dirty look from one of the golden haired human's hogging the left side of the vast table, and returned it in kind, his lavender colored visage twisting in irritation. The human looked away quickly and he scoffed a bit, turning his gaze away and towards the fountain.

It was a lovely fountain really, something more than just magical. He'd seen travelers of all sorts take to placing items inside it, pulling them out brighter, sometimes pulling out something else altogether. He wasn't particularly interested in trying it, it required some stone that he didn't have, not to mention magic seemed to get him into more trouble then helping him.

He noticed when the banana colored sylvari moved, and he shifted his eyes quickly, excited to finally see an end to the wait. But she merely joined one of the Sylvari at the far end of the table, exclaiming how she hadn't seen him there, and laughing all the while.

Yaegar felt what little of his patience he had left dwindle.

"There's a spot opening up to your right." A voice said, soft and sweetly behind him. He glanced around, his eyes widening as he beheld a teal colored Sylvari, her twisting hair, like the gnarled roots of a tree atop her head, were tinged with lavender, and her eyes matched. She wore heavy armor, plated and worn well with age, scratches buffed out and dents marring the detailed paint. She held her hands on her hips, a strong stance, and he noted she was at least a few inches taller than he was. He gaped for a moment, before remembering himself.

"Ah- Thank you." He stammered, shifting his back and nudging his leopard with his foot. The creature yawned and shot him a look of passive irritation before loping around him, gazing at the new teal sylvari curiously.

"You're most welcome, friend." She replied, throwing him a winning smile. He blinked, unable to look away for a moment, and then turned to the spot that had opened up.

"Do you mind if I join you?" She asked, pulling out a large leather pouch, also worn, like her armor. "I won't take up much room. I just have to finish carving one of my hilts. It's easier if I can spread out my tools." He simply nodded, somehow unable to find his voice. She smiled again, and stood close to him, hardly an inch away, spreading out tools he recognized well. Sharp knives, carving tools, sanding bars, all the things he used for himself, to carve and smooth his bows. She pulled out a chunk of thick elderwood, uncarved, unpolished, and set it on the table, sifting through her pouch of tools until she came across what looked like a paring knife.

Yaegar found it difficult to focus on repairing his bow then, as he watched her work. Her hands moved so fluidly, so skillfully, that he found himself mesmerized by the way they shifted around the would-be haft. In almost no time at all, it was softly carved and curved strongly, rough around the edges, but shaped elegantly to fit her artistic hands. He raised his eyes to meet hers, her eyes twinkling in mirth.

"I see your impatience has waned." She said in amusement. He felt his face heat, a sure sign that his bioluminescence was wildly flaring, and he coughed into his hand, picking up a small hand spindle.

"Er, you could say that." Yaegar said, chuckling lightly. She beamed at him, and he felt mesmerized by something other than her hands.

"I'm Raeleigh, by the way." She told him, holding out her hand to meet his. Yaegar shook her hand, feeling a zing of energy zip through his veins.

"Yaegar." He said, smiling crookidly at her. "Very pleased to meet you."

...

Well, just a short little tidbit for Yaegar, Sylvari Ranger, and Raeleigh, Sylvari Guardian. I hope you enjoyed their little exchange! 3 Thank you all for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Seperation

...

"Iedreth!"

Kairith panted as he ran around in a panic, the dense jungle hardly existing to him as he tried to navigate. It had all gone so wrong. Their ship had crashed, split in half by a giant limb or vine. He wasn't sure, nor did he truly care all that much. One moment, they'd been talking, Her eyes wide and excited as they flitted between him and the Commander. He hadn't blamed her for her fascination. Nobody on the ship could deny the pure _presence_ that the commander presented. Then the next... it had been pure chaos.

"Slow _down_ Kairith." Hiami growled out in frustration. "My legs are small you know." Kairith skidded to a stop, squinting into the trees he'd just come barreling through to see if he could spot a jolt of pink hair. Sure enough, it came bobbing through with its owner, looking flustered and irritable, her armor scuffed and disheveled. Another thing to note, her ever-present self-appointed guardian Curran was nowhere to be found.

"Curran?" He asked her tentatively. Her brow furrowed, but she shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.

"I expect he's in the same place Iedreth's in. He slid to her side of the boat when it was torn apart. Based off of the trajectory, I'd say we need to be heading East, not North."

"I'll admit I was more or less oblivious to direction prior to you coming up on me." Kairith replied hastily.

"I'll aquiesce that direction generally takes a back-seat whereupon one is panicking." Hiami allowed. "But now we have to think smartly. This jungle is unfamiliar, and dangerous. We can't just go running through it screaming. Have a little faith in Iedreth. She will be alright until we find them." Kairith nodded, but his heart continued to pound out of rhythm. He just _felt_ wrong. He wasn't sure what it was; whether it be the jungle or perhaps just being away from _her_ , but he felt ill at ease. Frustrated. Anxious.

Hiami reached into her small sack and pulled out a compass, her eyes shifting between it and the sky a few times, before turning to the right and pointing to a dense plateau ahead.

"There." She said, standing on her toes to peer over the trees. "That's our best bet." Kairith peered in that direction, and was not entirely surprised to see a fading stack of smoke above the massive trees.

"I see fading smoke, let's go." They moved as stealthily as they could through the forest while also keeping time, trying not to move too slowly, lest they miss their group altogether. Their first hint that they were coming close was the chittering of the native creatures began to wane until it was nearly silent. The second was the sounds of mesmer illusions shattering and the egregious sounds of battle.

Taking a quick glance at one another, Kairith and Hiami rushed into the clearing at the top of the plateau, where the other half of the smouldering ship lay ruined, and where some of their group were fighting off strange creatures, similar to sylvari, but large, more powerful looking. Scarier.

Kairith didn't think, he just acted, drawing his knives and charging at the nearest creature, which was shaking it's strange head as it dove at the Commander, trying its best to get a grip on the tall mesmer. The creature was surprised at the extra company, and took two knives to the back for it's trouble. Hiami's claymore was already slicing into one of the plant-like raptors that were cornering Rox and Braham near the crevice edge, allowing the two to focus on the other humanoid creatures attacking them. Kairith's eyes flitted around the group. The commander. The human mesmer and her lover the necromancer. The female charr and the son of Eir Stagalkin. Another male charr that seemed familiar in too many ways to be coincidental. Two nondescript humans and another asura clinging to a golem at least three times her size.

He did a double check.

Then another.

They weren't there.

"Hiami!" Kairith called out, shadow-stepping and appearing next to her as she finished off the second raptor-creature. "They're not here!" Hiami stopped and took a quick look around. Her brow furrowed again and she gritted her teeth together.

"We have to clear this area first. The commander might now where they've gone." Kairith nodded and they focused their attention on the bulk of the group, which was dwindling quickly against the sheer might of the group they'd attacked. The Commander had somehow gone further up the hill, pursued by a larger, more intimidating Mordrem that seemed keen on getting to her at all costs.

Hiami and Kairith helped to clear the remaining mordrem that attacked, watching out of the corner of their eyes as Eileria took on the Commanding Mordrem, whose attacks were dangerously close to the commander, but never quite seemed to make contact.

"Thank the Gods you showed up." The blond mesmer, Kasmeer exclaimed. "They showed up so suddenly, we were nearly overrun!"

"It seems it was attempting to divide and conquer." Hiami said, peering at the mordrem corpses that litered the plateau. "Where are the other two of our group? The two sylvari?"

"The white one and the brown one you mean?" Marjory answered, stepping forward. "I saw them when we crashed. The white one... Iedreth? She ran off and the male followed her. The boss tried to stop them but we were attacked before we could make a pursuit." She seemed to remember at that moment that the commander was still fighting the last Mordrem, and they all ran to intercept.

But it didn't seem to be needed. The Mordrem was on its back, panting and shredded, Eileria's blade at its throat.

"A waste of your talents." It hissed. "You cannot escape your fate. Our father calls to us all."

"Not in this lifetime." Eileria said coldly, sending her blade into the creature's throat. She looked away for a moment, before sighing and turning to the group.

"There will be more." She said, sheathing her swords and crossing her arms. "We can't risk keeping camp here now that they know we're here."

"There's very few safe zones in this whole area." Rytlock, the charr Kairith had vaguely recognized, said. "I'm not saying we should stay put, but we can't just bumble around either."

"We have to find Iedreth and Curran." Kairith said, looking at the commander earnestly. "They are just as new to this place as we are. If we stay seperated..."

"I agree." Eileria said, her tone a challenge to anyone who thought to argue. "But we can't all go. We need a group to set up a perimeter her as a temporary base of operations. The rest of us will go search for our comrades. _All_ of our comrades." She said, with a glance at Braham, who looked as anxious as Kairith felt.

"I'll stay back with Taimi." Rox volunteered, eyeing Rytlock speculatively. "We can reactivate the safety defenses from here while you take a hunting party to search."

"That's a good idea. Marjory? Can you and Kasmeer back them up here?"

"Of course!"Kasmeer answered. "Are you sure you'll have enough?"

"We will be fine with four." Eileria replied, looking at Kairith, Hiami, and Rytlock. "Braham, I'll give you the choice."

"I'll go with you." He said firmly. "If there's any chance to find Eir..."

"I understand." Eileria answered, her face grim. "We shouldn't waste more time. Lets get a move on."

...

Another little drabble, this one doesn't actually reunite Iedreth and Kairith, you'll see this side of the story soon enough in purpose ;P I just wanted to give you all a taste of whats going on! I hope you enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9

Aftermath

...

The battle had been horrifying.

So many dead, lying about in crooked postures, blood, some golden sap, some red as the apples they sold at Lion's Arch. Layers of caked dead, their expressions open horror or surprise in death. Not everyone here had wagered their deaths. Some looked as if they were merely sleeping. Those were the hardest to bear.

Azalea felt herself choking on the overwhelming sadness she felt. This was war. This was what she had been born into.

Even the Commander, Warmaster of the Vigil, looked as if the toll had been too much. She leaned into Trahearne, one of the firstborn, her face entrenched in agony. They had won this battle. But at what cost? She didn't know. She suspected they didn't know either. Young as they were. Even Trahearne, having several years on them, could hardly stand the devastation. She could tell.

And she was a _necromancer._ She dealt with death every day. But not like this. Not this glaring reality. Temporary was her magic. To bring back to life what once was. This dragon's magic made her own seem like child's play. The devestation it wrought. The lives it ruined...

Soon, soldiers began to gather the dead, avoiding the large, stinking carcase of the creature that had nearly obliterated Claw Island, and by extention, Lion's Arch. Only a tenth, perhaps less the size of the actual dragon. Just a pawn. Just a pawn that had done this. She felt sick just thinking of it. She kept her hands busy, setting healing wells down and helping to gather the bodies into a large pile. There would be no grave. They couldn't risk the bodies being raised again. Once all their identities had been marked, they would all be burned. Never see their families again. Never kiss the lips of their lovers. Never again fight. Eternal rest.

She found herself exausted by the time she made her way into the Inn she was staying at in Lion's arch. The humans there paid her little mind, most of them drunk in celebration. The Order's of Tyria had destroyed a powerful Dragon minion. They'd saved Lion's arch. Most of them had died but, many lives were spared instead.

Azalea found it hard to bite back the bile threatening to spill from her mouth.

She sat at the bar, uninterested in sleep. The images that plauged her while awake would no doubt follow to her dreams, and they would be considerably less pleasant while there. She buried her face in her hands, drawing a deep breath before tapping the bar, pointing to the strongest ale she knew they had, and waiting for the warm brew to quench the horror from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Azalea." She cracked open an eye, peering to her left, before straightening out of her posture altogether and staring, wide eyed, as Braxin, still clad in his travelling gear, stood beside her, looking at her with pity in his eyes. "I was too late. By the time I received word that they were retaliating... It was too late." Azalea slid off of the bar stool, and enveloped the man in a hug. He embraced her back, his arms strong, heart beating rhythmically. She felt herself sobbing, and she sunk to the floor, Braxin following her, comforting her as she broke down.

He quickly picked her up, she was so light it hardly bothered him, and quickly took her past the staring eyes up the stairs to her room. He held out his hand for her key, and she scrambled around to find it, still sobbing into his chest as she handed him the slightly rusted over key. He slid it in and opened the door, depositing her lightly onto her bed, dropping his bags on the floor before joining her, embracing her again.

"It was so awful Braxin." She said, her blue eyes shining with the tears they'd shed. "So many people dead. Charr. Humans, Norn, Asura. Our own. The Pale Tree must be in mourning. The Dragon's spawn was horrible." She sucked in a deep breath and Braxin waited for her to be calm.

"The Elder Dragon's are the reason we continue to fight." He said wisely, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "The very reason you're upset now. The devastation will only be worse if they continue their terror across all of Tyria."

"I know it..." Azalea replied, feeling distraught. "But to see it... I thought I'd have been prepared to see what I did."

"Being a necromancer doesn't numb you to the dead." Braxin told her, kissing her head lightly. "Nothing can prepare us for the horrors of Zhaitan. And yet... we continue to fight. You are strong. You did today what many people could never do. And it's alright to be upset. You witnessed something those same people will never see. Azalea smiled for a brief moment before beginning to cry again, leaning into Braxin, allowing herself to really feel the aftermath.

...

Just a short one, I wanted to write about Azalea for a while, but didn't really know how to go about it. She was born a few months before the battle at Claw Island, but she's a skilled Necromancer, and a priory novice to boot. Braxin is a sylvari revenant, he's not present for the battles of Zhaitan, spending much of his time searching for Kralkitorrik, the crux of his wyld hunt. He does love Azalea though, and always seems to appear right when she needs him most.

Enjoy!


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